And so begins the main chronicles. This is the bulk of the story, so I'll give you some more history, so to speak.
Windkin is a Wolfrider/Glider and (c) Wendy and Richard Pini, I have merely borrowed him for this story, without permission, so please don't sue! I have no money! He has no wings, but can fly by magic.
Skydancer is mine, she is one of Ravendark's Descendents and the only surviving one of his Holt (bar one, but that will be explained later!)
Silent Dancer part 1
Windkin stared in silence over the great desert waste, perched as he was on the bridge of destiny. His thoughts were ones of great turmoil, he felt so alone. He crouched one the bridge, enjoying the feel of wind pulling on his long brown hair. This was the closest he could get to her, his dear Ahdri, barricaded away forever amongst the rocks. The feeling of solitude surrounded him, holding him in its comforting embrace. Alone, so alone, was it always doomed to be this way for him? His parents, Scouter and Dewshine, did not understand his need to be alone, alone with the wind, even he could not fathom it fully. Maybe it was because he was so different, separate from the rest of the village. He rose his head and stared at the glowing golden-red horizon, watching the sun sink into oblivion and feeling like doing so himself. The red of the sunset, so like blood, so like the blood of his kin. He sighed deeply, struck by the feeling of melancholy. The gentle breeze tugged more incessantly, and he was suddenly struck by the desire to fly, to fly free and far, escape it all, if only for a while. There was a certain happiness, a certain escape, in being one with the wind. Slowly Windkin drew himself to his feet, admiring the view as dusk drenched the land in a golden hue. Shaking the depression from himself, as though it were nothing more than the gentle touch of summer's rain, he threw himself from the bridge, feeling the wind wrap itself around him, pushing him upwards and onwards, towards the heavens. How nice it would be to just go where the wind pushed him, onwards to eternity or beyond. Why not? There was nothing to remain here for anyway, except the nothingness of the wrapstuff. Windkin smile grimly to himself. He would seek out, beyond the desert, to the distant mountains. He would leave on the morrow, before the scolding sun had taken over the sky. He would join with the wind, and travel with it on its lengthy journey. The wind, the feeling of freedom washed the remaining stain of melancholy from him, returning the now of wolf-thought. He must live for the present, for who knew where the future would take him? Where the wind would drag and toss him like discarded leaves.
The sun rose languidly, bathing the world in a gentle golden hue. Its gentle touch bathed the young glider, already a long way from his home village, clutching the wings he had created to cease the energy expended on the long journey. The wind was naught but a gentle breeze, tugging him southward with it, and he was happy to go where it lead, and muse in his thoughts. He watched the sand stretch out endlessly before him, golden in the dawn-light, the killing sands appeared serene, almost peaceful. Occasionally the littered bones of some poor animal dead from exhaustion would catch his attention, betraying the tranquility. The sun rode higher in the sky, no longer bathing all in a gentle light, but in a seering burn. Windkin would have to halt in his gliding, perching on a rocky outcrop, to drink from the small water flask he carried with him. It was well into mid afternoon when the winds heightened, sending small, but coarse, grains of sand rushing along the ground, some of which gained enough altitude to scrape his tanned skin. He tried to soar above the winds, but the crosswinds continually swept him downwards, towards the cutting sand, which now whirled in little dust devils, small but induitably painful. Grains of sand blew into his eyes, and snuck insidiously into his nose, mouth and ears, painful, sharp. Distracted as he was, he failed to concentrate properly and accidently let the right hand wingflap go. Immediately the wind seized it in her grasp, dragging it bouncing and spinning across the ground. Unbalanced as he now was, poor Windkin too was sent spiralling earthward. The whole world was a chaotic combination of spiralling sand, the sky becoming the ground, becoming the sky again and dizzying as he really did join with the wind on her merry dance.
Finally the wind decided to finish her waltz with the poor battered glider, depositing him in a pitiful state in a sand dune, only semi-conscious. She went about her business, calmly returning to a serene state. Windkin muttered and spat out a mouthful of sand, surprised to find himself still alive, still whole, to a point. His hair, his clothing, or what was left of it, all was filled with coarse, biting sand. Dragging himself into a half-crouch, half-sit, he surveyed his position, wiping the dust from his watering eyes. His hair dripped with sweat, making him wonder just how long he had lain face down in the sand. His throat burned with dryness and his skin, although tanned from years in the Sun Village, felt as if it were on fire, and slick with sweat. He fumbled for his water flask and was devastated when he realised it was gone, gone! The wind, his tyrannic dancer, had stolen it from his clasp. He had lost his wings too, not that they were his concern at this present point in time. His surroundings were bland, small sand-dunes, a few rocky outcrops, sunbaked raising their browned bodies heavenwards, in prayer to the sun. He could be anywhere, anywhere in the vast and deadly desert. As he stumbled to his feet, the sand burning through the thin boots he wore, he cursed himself for his arrogance. So centred was he on the thoughts of flying and being totally free, being superior in that way to his fellow villagers, that he had forgotten his weaknesses. He had forgotten the tempremental nature of his silent dancer. Using the limits of his energy, he soared into the air, seeking at least to get his feet from the seering sands. He was sore, his muscles ached and he was sure he must be covered in bruises, his only hope was that he would reach some kind of shelter before he was reduced to bones like those of the fallen he had watched pass by. He could see little through the heat haze, save for rocky outcrops, and he had not the strength to glide high enough for a clear view of the desert that stretched out below him. He felt as if he had been gliding forever, every muscle ached and he could feel the blood pulsing through his brain. In a state of exhaustion he found himself unable to keep airborne, and slowly spiralled downward into the sand. As he dragged his aching body through the burning grains, his vision flitted in strange and disturbing ways, he fancied he could see sunlight shining off water somewhere in the distance, but is was probably just the heat haze, after all, at the moment a small bipedal rat in a cloak was dancing a waltz on the end of his nose. As he gazed heavenwards, he frightening shape of a large scavenging bird circling above him. Maybe it was a hallucination, it did not matter. So this was how he was to die then, alone, in the burning wastes, not even a hero's death, but that of a fool.
*
For the second time in the same day, Windkin was surprised to find himself still alive, if somewhat battered and exhausted beyond measure. He was lying under something cold, wet even, a relief to his burning skin. And someone was trying to force something into his mouth, something cold. He opened his mouth willingly, wincing slightly at the gentle touch of water against the dried skin. He was just starting to enjoy it, luxuriating in the taste, when it was taken away from him. Irritated, he pried open his eyes, wincing at the pain of his scorched eyelids. A strange elven woman sat beside him.
**You cannot drink it all yet** The sending was clear, even to his addled mind.
"Why not," he tried to reply, but his tongue seemed swollen and he sent it instead. A small smile played on her delicate lips. Her skin was dark, as dark as a Sun Villagers, but she was not familiar to him. She was strangely exotic.
**It will pain you more, could make you ill** Was her somewhat unsatisfactory reply. She ran one hand down his cheek. **And who are you, pale one?**
**I am Windkin** He was having trouble sending, such was his state. **Who are you? Where am I?**
She chuckled again, her laughter like a gentle breeze. **They call me Skydancer** She replied. **And you are near my home, indeed if you had just tried a little harder you would have got there all by youself.**
"Skydancer?" He whispered, puzzled, her name was not disimilar to his. He forced his eyes to focus properly. She was a petite elven female, certainly too delicate to be out here alone. Despite her brown skin, dark as that of the Sunfolk, her hair was a mixture of copper-red and silver strands, appearing to hang to her waist. That was not the most unusual thing about her however, for her arms were twisted into feathered wings! Somehow, with those twisted arms she helped the exhausted elf to his feet and somehow he managed to walk to her oasis, leaning on her petite frame for support. It amazed him how such a delicate elf could bear the weight of him leaning on her shoulder, yet she managed. In his current state he was having difficultly focusing, begining to wonder if he might have imagined those wings. He could only hope the vulturine shapes that circled above the two were hallucinations however! The two vultures were huge, circling the air above them silently, waiting, watching. Suddenly the two of them were in the shade, the shade of some stunted but otherwise apparently healthy trees. Skydancer supported him through these trees, dragging him away from the glistening waters of a tiny lake, which he eagerly struggled for.
**No!** She scolded him mentally, as though he were little more than a kit. **If I allow you to drink as you like, you will drink my lake dry and your stomach will burst!** He didn't know if she were joking and had not the strength to eetort. Small birds, finches and brightly coloured hookbills, twittered and squawked in the stumpy trees, and drank from the lake. Windkin envied them, even the mere scent of the water was making him unbearably thirsty. As if sensing this Skydancer pushed a leather waterskin into his hand.
**You may drink this - but slowly.** She cautioned him. He was only too happy to oblige, drinking down all that was left of the life-giving liquid. There was unfortunately not enough for his parched throat.
**Where are your pack?** He asked, recieving a somewhat puzzled look
**Pack? Oh, you mean flock. These are my people, there is noone else.** She motioned at the birds that surrounded her. As if on cue a multi-coloured hookbill with beautiful plumage and a very long gaudy tail landed on her shoulder. It squawked at him, seemingly in disdain. The vulture, a huge white and brown creature with a black goatee landed a few feet away and waddled over to the two of them. Windkin shuddered in fear, although seeing such a huge bird walk was vaguely comical. It was easily big enough to be dangerous, its great hooked bill was huge. The parrot fluttered away. Skydancer started to make a strange clucking noise, and the vulture replied, bobbing its head up and down in a very comical fashion. Windkin's fear of the great bird immediately diminished and he barely held back his laughter. As if sensing this, Skydancer helped her elven companion to sit down and crouched down to the level of the vulture. She made that strange grating clucking noise again, and the great bird suddenly lunged at her. Afraid his new, and obviously fey, companion was about to meet with harm, Windkin tried to stand up and help her. His legs would not support him and he fell backwards. **Stay.** The young elf woman almost screamed in his mind, as she charged to meet the lunging bird. The two collided in a collision of feathers, and once more Windkin was tempted to intervene. Until he remembered that he had seen his wolf-rider kin play in such a way with their wolves. Perhaps that was what she was doing? His suspiscions were confirmed in a few seconds when the wrestling ceased. The big white vulture lay pinned beneath the petite elf woman. She grinned broadly, and stood up, dusting herself off. The vulture scrambled clumsily to its feet and preened its breast, trying to regain its composure. At that Windkin had to laugh. Skydancer joined him, and the vulture stalked off sulkily, its very actions increasing the merriment.
*
The oasis was small, almost buried between two rocky outcrops, that protected it from the elements, particularly the wind. The lake sat tranquilly in the midst of it, surrounded by a field of grass, around it the stunted trees rose like silent sentinels. Windkin and Skydancer sat beside the lake, sheltered from the hot midday sun by the overhead canopy. Around them the small birds had fallen silent, as the bearded vultures enjoyed a rather elf-drenching bath. Both birds stood almost as tall as an elf.
**So you live here all alone? How can you stand it?** Windkin asked. He was well used to sending now, the bird-elf did not appear to speak at all, the only noises she made were those clucking chirps. She nodded her delicate head, sending her multi-hued tresses waving. She turned her violet eyes to meet Windkin's brown ones.
**I am not alone, just without elfkind, I am surrounded by kin, just look at Shadow and Wraith.** She motioned to the two vultures, the larger of which, Shadow, was standing knee deep in the water, using her mighty hooked beak to spray water all over the smaller male. A fair bit of the water was reaching the two elves, who were trying to eat a meal of ravvit meat. The ravvits bred in this tiny area, making short work of the grass, and providing an ideal food source for the elf. The vultures went further afar, they liked their meat aging, were particularly fond of bones. The glider elf could not understand her himself, how could one live in total solitude permanently, and enjoy it? He did like to be alone at times, but to live without any other elven company, it would surely drive him mad! He had been here for two days now and the winged elf had little to say about herself, but had asked many questions of him. Questions, questions, so many questions! She seemed intensely curiousity on the aspects of the outer world, and it appeared she had travelled little further than her peaceful oasis, venturing farther only to hunt larger prey. Her nest, as she called it, was a tiny den made from branches and covered in layers of leaves and twigs.
**What became of your people?** He asked her. Her reply was brief - though long-winded for her, and tragic.
**My people are dead,** she replied solemnly, staring away from him, trying to avoid letting him see the tears welling in her eyes. **On the cliffs we used to live, until those tall roundears found us and shot many of my kin down with arrows. Only four of us escaped into the burning waste, finding this wellspring. We set up a camp here, on the shores of this lake, and Sentinel, our tree-healer, grew these plants from seeds he always carried with him.** She had paused then, glancing at the stunted trees. **He died the next summer, when he got injured out in the wastes and could not seek shelter. My brother, Cloudchaser, died soon after our arrival here, from injuries incurred and only five springs ago, the only remaining of my kin disappeared one day, I never found her body, did not wish to look, those sands, those sands kill!** Windkin put a comforting arm around her, and she lay her head on his shoulder. Such was the way of human kind and the harsh elements, all things an elf must face, or die in the process. It did puzzle him where the winged elves had come from originally, they were wolf-rider size, but seemed to have no wolf-blood, as far as he could fathom, Skydancer must be at least several thousand years old, and looked little older than many of his sun-villager friends. She had lived relatively near the Sun Village for so long, why had they never seen her before? Perhaps the wind had carried him further on her merry dance than he had thought. The Sun folk wandered little anyway. He watched as she picked up a bone knife and a chunk of bone and began to carve it. Despite her disfigured arms, she seemed not to have lost maual dexterity, unlike his sire They sat peacefully by the lake-side until the sun began to set, drenching the world in a golden red hue.
**We must go inside now.** She sent softly, then released a shrill screech that sounded so alike that of the birds. Wraith spiralled down to land in the tree beside her, the branches bending under his weight. He screeched in reply. Windkin sighed, so the vultures were to join them again, as if the tiny nest was not crowded enough already. Perhaps it would be better to sleep outside, but he knew the cold desert nights would kill as surely as the baking desert days. Sleep was hard to come by, with the great white birds clambering about, accidently placing one enormous, deadly talon on a particularly delicate part of his anatomy as they tried to get themselves comfortable. He looked over at the bird-elf, lying on her side, her arms folded across her body, the feathers forming a cloak, her violet eyes watching him blearily. Suddenly a strange feeling overwhelmed him as their eyes met, a
name appearing in his mind as if placed there by some divine hand,
**Freja**. He shuddered, bringing himself fully awake, aware of what had just happened to him. Recognition. That which his mother and sire had fought so hard to deny. That which could not be denied, as Skydancer's lips parted, whispering a single word, the first word he had ever heard her utter, "Bwynn", he wondered if he would even try.
*
The sun drew herself above the horizon, drenching the land once more with her pale glow. The liquid honey sweeping over the tiny, leaky hut, seeping through the cracks in the branches to shine on the two elves holding each other. Both knew that something more powerful than the both of them had happened that night, but neither had fulfilled it. Yet.**Bwynn,** Skydancer sent, resting her chin on his Windkin's chest.**What does it mean? **
She was so innocent, so seemingly naive, or perhaps her pack did not suffer from recognition the way his did, perhaps this was something new. **It means there will be a child,** he replied, **made of the essence of you and me.**
She ran one hand down his naked chest, her gentle touch tickling him, arousing stirrings in him. **Perhaps I should send the vultures away.** She sent lightly, with the trace of laughter.
**Perhaps!** Windkin chuckled. **Or perhaps we should leave them to the hut.** Dragging himself out from under her head, he exitted the small hut, and into the bright, dappled sunlight. Skydancer followed shortly after, the vultures, he was unhappy to note, trailing behind her. She turned and waved her hands at them, making louder, more demanding chirping/squawking noises. Eventually the two of them bounced into the air and they flew away. **Foolish birds,** she sent, with no trace of real malice. She turned her violet eyes to Windkin, they were glistening with excitement. Windkin was puzzled himself, he knew what he was compelled to do it, and indeed, had no problem with it, but there was something worrying him. It ws not his love for Ahdri, for that was different, it was the prospect of a cubling. He had no wish to stay here, so far from his home, so far from his friends and family, but he doubted Skydancer would leave with him. He watched as she removed her rough sleeping tunic (for the desert nights were chill) and ran into the warm waters of the tiny lake, the water splashing and beeding on her brown skin like tiny jewels. Suddenly he decided that those problems would work themselves out later, and stripping off, ran into the water after her. As he ran to meet her, he copped a handul of waterspray in the face."Oh you foolish woman," he laughed out loud. He dived below the waist-deep water, grabbing at her ankles. Realising his intent, she made a feeble effort to kick at him and was thrown backwards when he rose from the water just in front of her and pushed her backwards, falling after her. They landed in the water with an almighty splash, him pinning her down like a dominant wolf. It took her but a few seconds to struggle free, wrapping her sodden wing-arms around his neck.
**Oh Bwynn,** she sent quietly. **How quiet it was before you came here, how dull.**
**Even with the vultures?** He replied, mischievously.
**Even with the vultures.** She replied. **There are some things the companionship of birds cannot satisfy.**
**I should hope not,** he chuckled, trying to walk towards theshore with her clinging to him like an infant treewee. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking them firmly behind his back, only because of her slight weight, her hollow bones, did he not fall over onto her again. He dragged her across to the solid ground, standing in amongst the overgrown weeds that surrounded the banks of the lake. The bird-elf unlinked her legs from behind Windkin's buttocks and lowered her feet to the ground, pulling him down with her. Laughingly, he splayed across her, the two of them rolling slightly down the gentle slope, almost into the water once more. Her body was so warm, damp from the lake waters, the driplets beeding on her dark skin like tiny jewels. He ran one hand through her long strands of hair, caressing her scalp with his finger tips. She sighed happily, removing a droplet of water from the tip of his nose with her tongue. Around them the birds sang in symphony. He ran his hands over her delicate body, thinking how long it had been since he had last done this, before Ahdri's death. He quickly banished those thoughts from his mind - live for the NOW! The bird-elf embraced him, her dark lips brushing delicately against his as she drew him closer towards her. She ran her finger-nails down his back and rubbed her body against him. Smiling to himself, Windkin let himself sink into the now of wolfthought, enjoying the moment for what it was, the delicate female's body against him. Being engulfed by her warmth, her serenity, ignoring all in the moment of pleasure. His smile widened as the delicate bird-elf arched her back, her finger-nails tearing welts in his back and her wing feathers rubbing lightly against his sides. He had to hold back his mirth as the plumes tickled his delicate skin in a way that was oh so sensual. With his own delicate hands he ran the finger tips across her moist skin, finding the places of pleasure. Listening to her cry out in pleasure and joy. Regretfully it was eventually over, and the two lovers collapsed side by side in the long grass, staring through the branches above and at the sky where the sun was far reaching her scorching zenith. Skydancer rested her head on his lithe chest, grasping him tightly with her wing-hands. She lightly kissed his chest.
**Thank you,** she sent, although it was more with pictures and emotion than actual words. Windkin clung to her, uneager to let her warm body, so fill of vibrance and life, to go, he kissed her lightly again and again, on the eyelids, the cheeks, the neck. He felt her body trember beneath him, as she moved closer into his embrace. He gently kissed her large pointed ears, nibbling them slightly with his teeth. She mumured in delight. They lay together, watching the sun reach higher in the sky, until the heat of the day forced them back into the waters once more.